Case File Number 2738
by Simon920
Summary: Dick Grayson feels the need to talk with a psychologist. Hard to believe.
1. Chapter 1

**Case File No. 2738**

Subject: Richard John Grayson

23 year old Caucasian male

Some college, didn't graduate. Clearly intelligent, articulate

Parents deceased

Raised by a single male guardian from age of eight. No family relationship

Heterosexual. Not currently involved in a serious relationship

No significant blood family contact

Currently employed as officer BPD

No known chemical dependencies

Physically active, athletic

Financially independent

Only child

**Initial meeting, first week**:

Subject called and made initial appointment. Arrived on time. Clothing casual but neat with good personal hygiene.

Grayson's physical impact is impressive. He is an exceptionally handsome man and well built. He seems to accept this without arrogance and attaches little importance to the impression he makes to the point of disregarding it. His demeanor was reserved but friendly and he appeared to be confident and at ease. He presents himself well, comes across as charming and confident. He has an obvious disinclination to discuss himself and talked in generalities for half of the appointment, insisting that he didn't really know why he was there. When asked if there was anything in particular he wished to discuss he hesitated for several minutes and reluctantly admitted that he has a number of areas in his life that he would like to talk about but expressed deep concern and reservations about what he termed 'privacy and security'. When pressed about this he refused to give a clear answer but informed me that he would see how he felt about it after he'd had time to evaluate me and had made a decision as to whether he though I could be trusted. He left the appointment early, but did make another appointment for the following week. It is unclear if he will keep that appointment. He exhibited some signs of paranoia.

**Second week:**

Subject arrived on time, he was dressed appropriately and his hygiene was acceptable.

He was anxious to again make sure that anything we spoke about would remain confidential. I assured him that I was bound by patient/doctor rules and that anything we discussed would remain between us. After several minutes he agreed to speak freely, though I am confident that he will likely continue to choose what he will and won't reveal about himself.

I began by trying to have him open himself to an exploration of his feelings regarding the deaths of his parents. He insisted that while he clearly hasn't completely put their loss behind him nor forgotten the trauma, he has accepted their deaths and has moved on with his life. He also informed me that they were the victims of organized crime, that he was a witness to their murders and easily conceded that was a catalyst for his decision to join the police force.

I asked if he had any feelings regarding the fact that his 'blood' family were unable or unwilling to give him a home when he was orphaned. He brushed off my questions, insisting that he understood their reasons and no longer thought about it. He declined to go into this area in depth. He is clearly sublimating this area of his life and has yet to completely come to terms with the details of his early loss. There is clearly repressed resentment directed towards members of his family and feelings of abandonment are obvious.

I also asked him how being raised by his guardian—a wealthy and well known local resident—had caused him any adjustment problems since his parents were on the lower end of the earning scale, likely living from paycheck to paycheck. In addition, he had gone from a transient existence of constant travel as part of a performing troop with a medium sized circus to a more solid home life where he was largely raised by servants.

Subject insisted that while he missed his parents, he was happy in the home he'd been adopted into and was close to both his guardian and the main butler, as well as being extremely grateful to them.

He is clearly refusing to delve deeply into his adjustments to these major life changes and we will revisit the subject in the future.

**Week Three:**

Mr. Grayson cancelled this week's appointment, calling two hours before his scheduled time, saying he was working on a police case and was unable to get away. He rescheduled for the following week.

**Week Four:**

Mr. Grayson arrived on time, apologizing for missing the previous appointment.

I asked him again about his feelings regarding the vast differences in his life after his parents were killed and he was taken into a situation of vast wealth and privilege. He insisted that the adjustments were minor for him and that after a very few weeks, he was completely at home with his guardian. While I believe that he is an individual who makes adjustments easily, I find this unlikely in the extreme. When prodded, he did admit to a period of severe nightmares as a child and difficulty in making friends in his new school. He also mentioned that he has been previously been home schooled and briefly described his life as a child performer with his family's trapeze act—a situation of significant independence and responsibility for a young child. He also mentioned that his family needed his additional income and he enjoyed the feeling of being helpful to his parents and contributing to the family welfare.

He admitted to some feelings of guilt and of 'not paying his way' in his guardian's home, feelings which, to some degree, continue to this day.

I detect a deep degree of guilt in Mr. Grayson—survivor's guilt, guilt at not 'pulling his weight' with his guardian, and he admitted to feelings of failure at having disappointed his guardian. He declined to elaborate on these feelings.

**Week Five:**

Continuing the previous week's discussion. Mr. Grayson mentioned that he felt that while his guardian was obviously concerned about his welfare and provided him with the many advantages at his disposal, Mr. Grayson had felt a lack of both emotional and physical closeness which had been present with his own parents. He expressed deep gratitude to his guardian for stepping into the paternal role, but felt that it often bordered on a professional relationship, rather than a personal on. He declined to elaborate on this subject.

He again expressed regret at 'disappointing' his guardian. He mentioned that when he informed his guardian of his decision to not return to college the reaction was one of anger. He also said that his guardian, with whom he is still in contact, 'doesn't get' his current career as a police officer.

Mr. Grayson also corrected me at this point when I referred to his guardian, informing me that he had been formally adopted within the last year and his former guardian is now his legal father. He chooses not to use his new legal name, preferring the relatively low profile of his own name, though he did agree to the legal addition of a new surname.

I attribute this to a combination of Mr. Grayson's desire to, as he phrased it, 'make his own way' and some embarrassment at the extreme wealth associated with his adoptive father. I also asked if his adoptive father's reputation as a dilettante was a contributing factor in his decision. He denied this, though he did mention that were his adoption to become generally known, it could complicate his work with his fellow police officers.

I then asked him the reason for the adoption to take place when he was well past the age of majority. He responded that Mr. Wayne had decided that it 'was long past due' and further said that Mr. Wayne had once assured him that he would never attempt to replace his natural father and had used this to explain why he hadn't been adopted earlier. Clearly Mr. Grayson feels deep resentment about the long delay in the resolution of this issue, though he insisted that he's more than satisfied with the current situation.

**Week 6:**

This week we discussed Mr. Grayson's social life. He insists that he is rarely lonely and has a circle of close and long standing friends on whom he both depends and is available to. At one point he referred to them as his 'family'.

When I asked him about his current single status—especially in light of his extreme attractiveness—he was embarrassed at having this simple fact pointed out and seemed uncomfortable at having his physical features brought into focus; whether is simply modesty or lack of awareness of his appearance is unclear. He denies that he is 'any more attractive than anyone else' and was disbelieving at my comments. He also said that he's been engaged twice, has had a series of girlfriends over the years and 'is simply too busy to find one at this point'.

I asked him what had caused the two engagements to end. He was uncomfortable with this question, saying that the first one was 'probably just a bad idea from the start' and the second one is 'on hiatus' and may resume at some point. It's clear he still has unresolved feelings about the second relationship.

I next questioned if his adoptive father's high profile reputation as a lady's man had affected him and his reaction was to laugh, saying he was never sure who would be joining them for breakfast when he was younger. He insisted that it didn't matter to him and he saw the many women for what they were—'gold diggers and bimbos of the week.' He said he knew that none of them would last in his father's life, while he would.

Mr. Grayson is still reluctant to go into any depth regarding his relationships or true feelings about people in his life, deflecting questions with jokes or superficial answers.

**Week 7:**

This week we discussed that butler, a Mr. Pennyworth, who was and remains a major figure in Mr. Grayson's life. Mr. Grayson expressed warm feelings of both gratitude and love for 'Alfred' and said several times that if the man had not been in his life he wasn't sure he'd be as high functioning as he is. It's clear that Mr. Pennyworth provided Mr. Grayson with both practical support and a secure emotional foundation. Mr. Grayson said that he considers Mr. Pennyworth to be his grandfather and is the single person—aside from his deceased parents—about whom Mr. Grayson expresses undisguised affection.

**Week 8:**

I began this week's session by asking Mr. Grayson what it was he was unwilling to discuss. I mentioned that he has yet to discuss, in any depth, his relationship with his adoptive father, his close friendships or his romantic life. He is also hesitant to discuss his early life with his parents. He was surprised by my question and denied that he was withholding anything of significance. This is patently untrue and I told the client this. He became defensive and angry and left the office ten minutes into the appointment.

**Week 9:**

Mr. Grayson cancelled.

**Week 10:**

Mr. Grayson cancelled.

**Week 11:**

Mr. Grayson cancelled.

**Week 12:**

Mr. Grayson showed for his regular appointment. He was dressed casually in worn but clean jeans and a tee shirt with 'BPD' embroidered on the chest. He appeared to be fatigued and admitted that he'd been working extra shifts. He apologized for missing the last three appointments and said that he'd been thinking about what I'd said regarding his refusal to be open about certain areas of his life. He admitted that this was true and that there were several parts of his life which he wasn't comfortable discussing and again mentioned the need for security.

He then advised me that he'd spent some time the last few weeks 'checking me out' and that he was convinced that I could be trusted. He was still hesitant but finally confided—after again insisting that this cannot go beyond the office— that he did, indeed have secrets and they must be kept at all costs.

I assured him that his confidences were safe.

He informed me—after more hesitation during which he was evaluating me—that he was and had for a number of years been a costumed vigilante, though he declined to tell me which one. He insists that he has worked with the original Teen Titans, the Justice League and a group called the Outsiders as well as solving a large number of cases on his own. He said that he is still active in these activities and that he's currently working on bringing down a major drug importer in Bludhaven.

He said that he began with his 'training' shortly after his parents were killed and that he worked under the guidance of a member of the Justice League. He also insists that he is a fully qualified officer of Interpol and showed me a badge indicating this to be true. Mr. Grayson offered to show me other proof of what he says and insisted that he was telling the truth.

When questioned about whom else might be involved, he declined to answer, citing 'security'. He also said that his first engagement to be married ended when an alien blew up the minister immediately before the ceremony and that his second engagement was called off because he had to go 'off planet to fight in the Infinite Crisis'.

Clearly Mr. Grayson is delusional and is more seriously disturbed than I had at first diagnosed.

I suggested that he might benefit from medications but he declined, saying that he had 'to be sharp in case the Joker broke out of Akhram again'.

**Week 13:**

I asked Mr. Grayson if he would agree to my meeting with Mr. Wayne or Mr. Pennyworth. He informed me that he would rather not bother them. Without Mr. Grayson's permission, I cannot meet with anyone to discuss his case. He then told me that he would think about it, though he seemed uninterested in the idea.

I then asked him how his week had gone and he informed me that it was "okay, but I'm worried that the JLA will ask me to lead them again and I'm really not comfortable with that."

When asked why that made him uncomfortable he said that he was fine in a leadership role, mentioning that he'd helped found and lead the Teen Titans for years. But the Justice League included Superman and since he thought of 'Kal' as his uncle, it was awkward telling him what to do. In addition he said that he disliked Aquaman—whom he referred to as 'Arthur' and Green Arrow was a 'pain in the ass'.

At the end of his appointment, he was still undecided about accepting the position or not.

I asked him if Mr. Wayne knew about his activities but he declined to answer.

**Week 14:**

Continuing last week's discussion, I asked Mr. Grayson just what his training as a vigilante had consisted of. He said it involved vast amounts of work learning forensic skills as well as countless hours honing his athletic abilities so that he 'could avoid getting shot and stuff'. It also included learning any number of scientific disciplines—chemistry, physics, electronics and so on. He said he began this training just before his ninth birthday and began actively working criminal cases by the time he was ten years old.

He declined to discuss Mr. Wayne's reactions to this activity.

He did say that one condition of his 'hunting crooks' was that he was expected to maintain top grades and that failing to make the honor roll was enough to get him grounded.

When asked if he'd ever been injured he laughed and told me that he'd been shot 'a couple of times' and had more sprains and fractures that he could keep track of.

Clearly, Mr. Grayson has chosen a fantasy life to avoid the pain of the reality of his parent's murders. In his mind he is a white knight on a steed avenging wrongdoing. This is common enough in young crime victims, but usually subsides when the victim grows to adulthood and develops a life of his own separate from the trauma of his childhood trauma.

Unfortunately, Mr. Grayson had descended into the fantasy of his gaining vengeance by personally arresting the people who killed his parents, despite his being ten years old. His fantasy has expanded to include his saving the world several times over and includes personal friendships with major current 'heroes' and world leaders.

I strongly suggest that Mr. Grayson continue his therapy for an extended period of time, with the possible addition of specialists in his particular type of delusions. I will recommend that he allow me to contact the Gotham or Metropolis facilities which deal specifically with people who have Super-hero fantasy lives.

My concern is that if he does not receive immediate and intensive help, he may become so entrenched in his delusions, he may be lost to them.

I will also suggest that Mr. Grayson continue our appointments. If I deem his fantasy life is overtaking his reality, I may be forced to contact his superiors at the Bludhaven Police Department for the safety of the patient and his co-workers, as well as the general citizens of Bludhaven.

3/27/08

7


	2. Chapter 2

**Case File Number 2738**

**Continued**

**Week 26:**

Mr. Grayson continues with his insistence that he is a costumed vigilante, operating in the city of Bludhaven while maintaining a public career as a rookie police officer in the BPD.

He remains firmly entrenched in his belief, going so far as to relate the details of some of his 'cases' involving various and well known criminals such as Harvey Dent, The Joker, Catwoman and others. He also insists that he has the pleasure of close and long standing friendships with a number of well-known costumed heroes operating worldwide, as well as working with them on a professional basis. He mentioned Batman and Superman in particular and has begun making comments about his old team mates in the Teen Titans, going so far as to comment that he helped Speedy fight an addiction he had to heroin as a teenager.

The complete and firm certainty with which he functions in these beliefs appear to be harmless on the surface as I'm convinced his nocturnal adventures exist only in his mind but I fear for the day he crosses the line between fiction and reality and acts on his beliefs.

He is clearly getting his fantasies from current events, but the depth of his beliefs and the degree of detail he brings to his recounting of his adventures is unusually extreme.

**Week 27:**

I told Mr. Grayson that I would be able to better help him if I knew which hero he was.

He questioned what difference it made to me and I informed him that for me to understand the psychological challenges he faces, I needed to know what he was dealing with on a virtually nightly basis.

He was reluctant to confide in me what his secret identity is; claiming it could endanger various friends and family members. He then went on to explain that the reason he, and others, maintain separate identities was just for this purpose and he was uncomfortable compromising that security.

He was clearly hesitant to do this and declined. He was also clearly annoyed at what he termed my 'continual refusal to believe me' regarding his alternate identity.

The session ended early.

**Week 28:**

Mr. Grayson cancelled.

**Week 29:**

Mr. Grayson expressed continued annoyance at what he perceived as a lack of belief when, as he put it, he'd been more open with me about his life than he had been with almost anyone he'd ever known.

I asked him to see the situation from my perspective—a young man I don't know becomes a patient of mine and makes what, on the surface, appear to be delusional and outlandish claims regarding a secret life. I commented that his knowledge of police and detective work could easily be explained by his position with the BPD.

He agreed that it was a 'stretch' but insisted that everything he'd told me over the course of our professional relationship was completely true. He also expressed anger at not being believed, though he did concede that he could understand my reluctance.

He informed me that he would think about arranging proof, but was deeply concerned about the safety of his family and friends.

**Week 30:**

Mr. Grayson arrived for his appointment with the aid of crutches and was obviously in some pain from a leg injury. When asked he told me that he'd been shot but was expected to make a full recovery. When asked how the injury occurred he said that he'd been shot by the Joker during 'a bust when he was trying to rob the Museum of Art'.

He explained that he was on the roof while it was raining, waiting to stop a getaway but slipped in a puddle, preventing him from dodging a bullet fired by the Joker. He then added that, luckily for him, the Batman was also working on stopping the theft and got him to medical help as soon as arrests were made.

I asked Mr. Grayson if he often worked with the Batman and he replied that he'd worked with him often over the years and they commonly helped one another on cases. He added in confidence that he was the original Robin and had known Batman since he was a young child, also vehemently denying—in response to my question—the idea of any impropriety between them, insisting that Batman was far too honorable to take advantage of a young boy. Mr. Grayson was annoyed by the question, saying he'd heard it a 'thousand times and it's bullshit'. He added that Batman is completely heterosexual and prefers grown women; something Mr. Grayson insisted that he had personal knowledge of.

I then asked how he explained to his precinct how he'd been shot—and how he'd explained it to whatever medical facility treated him as any gunshot wounds must, by law, be reported. He answered that there are ways to avoid reporting 'things like this' and that he told his employers that he'd been involved in a hunting accident on his day off. He further explained that in Bludhaven such things are routinely covered up with no one thinking much about it.

After Mr. Grayson left I asked my secretary to run a check and she responded that no attempted art theft was reported in any of the media outlets, though it was possible that the police files were sealed.

I am becoming deeply concerned that Mr. Grayson's fantasy life is becoming a serious threat to his well being.

**Week 31:**

A break through occurred this week. After months of asking, Patient informed me during this week's session that he knows I don't believe he's who he says he is and has decided to prove it so that we are able to communicate on a more honest level. He asked me what it would take to have me accept what he says at face value and, somewhat at a loss, I finally suggesting that he use a communicator to bring one or more of his costumed co-workers in to the office at that moment to verify his claims.

Taking a custom cell phone from his pocket, he called a number on his speed dial, assuring me that 'someone will be here in a minute'. We waited and inside of thirty seconds a man dressed as the Flash knocked on the outer door, entering and asked what it was 'Wing' wanted. The man appeared to be who he presented himself to be and showed me ample identification and proof of his membership in the Justice League. His demeanor towards Mr. Grayson was respectful, and almost that of an employee dealing with a superior, though I detected what seems to be genuine affection between the two men. He clearly seemed to know Mr. Grayson and was surprised when Mr. Grayson asked him—somewhat forcefully—to 'tell him who I am, I want him to know'. The Flash was extremely hesitant to do this until Mr. Grayson spoke to him in some privacy. Finally and with great reluctance Flash assured me that Mr. Grayson is who he says he is, the vigilante known as Nightwing. He informed me that they had first met when they were both eleven years old, along with the other original Teen Titans, that they all remain close friends and see one another as often as possible. He also assured me that the others would vouch for Mr. Grayson if I wished. He also suggested that his fellow members of the Justice League all knew and respected Mr. Grayson and would be happy to add their verifications to his.

I think it unlikely that Mr. Grayson would have the resources to fake this kind of impromptu meeting, though it's not impossible that this was somehow prearranged.

Though not 100 percent convinced, I have to admit to having some doubts about my own certainty of Mr. Grayson's delusions.

**Week 32:**

Mr. Grayson finally agreed to discuss his relation with women in some detail. He says he is heterosexual and has had relationships with several women over the last few years. He admitted to having lost his virginity to a female classmate he was dating while in college and insists that he is naturally inclined towards to monogamy. He added that he is not currently involved with anyone, nor is he actively seeking a girlfriend. He explained this as his simply being too busy to devote the needed time.

He also admitted that he considered himself to blame or the failures of his previous relationships, saying he was 'never around and usually working on cases and stuff' when his girlfriends wanted to see him. He said he understood their frustration and felt badly about it. He also admitted that he misses the closeness a successful relationship with someone can bring.

When asked he answered that while he would like to get married and have a family 'eventually', he has no real thoughts about when that may be and I detected a lack of conviction about it ever becoming a reality. I suspect he has lingering abandonment issues with his parent's deaths and fears likewise abandoning a family of his own.

At one point I referred to the patient as 'Nightwing' and he appeared to be at ease with the name and persona. This could, of course, be part of the delusion and an excuse to keep people at arm's length, though I'm becoming more convinced that he may well be who he says he is.

**Week 33:**

This week we addressed Mr. Grayson's feelings about the man who took him in and raised him after his parent's murders. He insists that though he and his guardian had gone through an estrangement that lasted several years, they are now on good terms and painted a picture of a close relationship based on mutual respect. When I questioned the rosy picture he attempted to paint about his relationship with his former guardian/adoptive father, he became indignant and insisted that I was simply wrong in my assessment and that all is well between the two men and getting better month by month.

When pressed, Mr. Grayson did express some resentment regarding two other young men in need who his adoptive father had also given homes to. He mentioned that one of the young men was killed and, while he had nothing to do with the boy's death and was in no position to prevent it, he 'felt badly' about it happening, suggesting the young man was simply 'out of his depth'. He further suggested that had the estrangement not been in effect, the young man would likely not have been put into the position where he was killed. He also indicated that he felt guilt about jealousy and resentment he directed towards the young man before his death. When I suggested these feelings might have been both normal and justified, he refused to accept my opinion, insisting he 'could have done more to help the kid'. He also made a comment—which he refused to expand on—about how it had hurt him to realize that he was so easily replaceable.

I then asked what feelings he harbors for the third young man who joined the household.

Mr. Grayson's feelings here are a sharp contrast those regarding the previous boy. He seems to have genuine feelings of brotherly affection for the youngster, talking about him with obvious pleasure and pride in his intelligence and ingenuity. This seems to be a healthy relationship and one of the few which appear to provide emotional grounding to Mr. Grayson.

**Week 34:**

I'm seriously concerned about this week's session.

When I asked Mr. Grayson where he saw himself in twenty years he looked at me for quite along time, clearly formulating an answer—several minutes, at least and then replied that he didn't see himself anywhere in twenty years. Asked what he meant by his answer, he said that he'd never liked to project the future. I pressed again and he said that he knew that in all likelihood his vigilante activities would cause his death. He added that he'd lost any number of friends and co-workers and he assumed that it was simply a matter of time before his turn came.

He assured me that he had no suicidal thoughts or tendencies and would be pleasantly surprised to see his grandchildren, he just thought it was 'a long shot'.

Mr. Grayson also said that he was fine with this, that he knew and understood the dangers of his choice of work and accepted them. He insisted that there's nothing fatalistic about him, that he's just a realist.

I am concerned for this patient.

**Week 35:**

I asked Mr. Grayson if it would be possible for him to have Batman come in so that I might ask him some questions about how Mr. Grayson had adapted to his new environment after his parent's deaths. Though I assured him of both security and confidentiality, Mr. Grayson adamantly refused.

When questioned why he replied 'You'd think he was nuts—and that, by extension, I'm as crazy as he is.' He than added, 'besides, it's none of his business—I don't want to bother him with something like this'.

I suggested that my position isn't to pass judgement but Mr. Grayson refused to call Batman and insisted that he wouldn't be likely to change his mind about this.

**Week 36:**

No-show.

**Week 37:**

No-show.

**Week 39:**

No-show.

**Week 40:**

No-show.

**Week 41:**

Mr. Grayson, somewhat to my surprise, kept this week's appointment, after several weeks of neither appearing for his scheduled time nor calling to cancel. Calls to his phone number were unanswered and unreturned though a call to his work number gave the information that he was away on an extended assignment.

He apologized for his absence and simply said he was working. When pressed, he casually commented that he'd been 'off-world' with the Outsiders and had no way to contact me. He also said that he was unable to discuss what they'd been doing as it was 'still classified'.

He is no longer using the crutches and seems to have made a complete recovery, with out even a limp. He attributed this to 'some medicine from Kal'—which he described as Superman's 'real name'. He explained to me that they're friends and that he sees Superman as something like an uncle, going to him for advice.

He offered no proof of this.

**Week 42:**

Mr. Grayson's demeanor today was significantly less upbeat and bordered on depressed, which seems to be unusual for him. When questioned about this he explained that it was the anniversary of his parent's deaths. I then asked him what he thought his life might be now if his parents hadn't been killed. He answered quickly, indicating to me that he'd given this some thought and said that he expected that he would still be touring in some kind of show, possibly still with his parents and that they may well have moved up to the bigger productions such as Barnum and Bailey. He said that his family was fielding offers when the murders occurred. He also said it was possible that they could be performing in one of the productions of Circe du Soleil. He added that he thought he would enjoy that life and I suspect that he feels cheated on some level, though he denies this.

He quickly added that he does enjoy the life he's living, feels he's contributing and accomplishing things as well as making a difference. I believe him, but believe he may be rationalizing his current life style and choices he's made.

I also asked if he thinks he would have felt satisfied as a circus performer—he is an exceptionally intelligent and talented individual. He insists that he would have been and added that he might well have advanced and ended up directing or owning a show—if he was able to raise the needed money.

I detected some melancholy, understandable under the circumstances.

When I asked Mr. Grayson how he would spend the rest of the anniversary, he said he expected to visit his parent's graves and then see friends for dinner. I'm pleased to see he's reaching out—or accepting support on what is, clearly, a difficult day for him.

I also asked if his adoptive father would be involved and he said he wasn't sure as the man was extremely busy. I'll pursue this further.

I am still undecided if Mr. Grayson is who he says he is regarding a secret identity, though he remains firmly rooted in this conviction. Despite the proof he presented, I feel it was too pat, too ready for examination and may have been faked somehow.

I am hopeful that Mr. Grayson continues with his sessions and I will suggest to him that he see a specialist in the hero fantasy genre for a more in depth analysis.

4/4/08

7


	3. Chapter 3

**Case File Number 2738**

**Continued**

**Week 43:**

(Personal comment: I am starting to think that, whether Mr. Grayson's who he claims to be true or not, this might become something I should explore with more depth.)

Mr. Grayson arrived early, explaining he had to get in and out as he had to drive to Gotham for his father's birthday. As I had the time free, I agreed. He said he was looking forward to the party that was planned as he expected to be seeing several old friends. When pressed, he admitted that one of the people there would be a woman he was once engaged to, though the engagement was broken off. He said that while they weren't in touch, he hoped to reestablish some part of their relationship this evening, or—at the least—to reestablish some kind of contact.

I asked if he believed the woman might be open to seeing him again and he was unsure but seemed determined to try. He appeared to me to have what might be an unhealthy obsession with this woman who, he admitted, could be both cold and self-centered, often dismissing his needs and desires. He reluctantly elaborated y saying she would often 'run hot and cold' with him, would refuse to commit and would often ridicule him. He admitted that she would often use belittling pet names and nicknames which she knew to be an annoyance to him. He also admitted that she was uninterested in having relations with him, using a physical handicap as an excuse to refuse him.

When I said that this might not be a healthy or nourishing relationship for either of them he became defensive and denied my suggestions.

He became agitated and left the appointment.

**Week 44:**

Mr. Grayson declined to discuss how the birthday party went last week, only saying it was 'fine' and refusing to in any way say what happened with the woman he'd hoped to reconnect with. I presume that it did not go as planed as his demeanor was subdued.

He did say that the party itself went well, though he is clearly disappointed by his interactions with his former girlfriend. He also said she had his ring with her and returned it to him at the end of the evening.

He also, when asked, said that his father seemed pleased with how it had gone and wanted to make a point of spending some time with Mr. Grayson and the other youngster who is living in the family circle. Mr. Grayson mentioned that he might be away for a few weeks while they 'go off to bond'.

Judging from his demeanor when he said that, I believe that this is something which doesn't happen often in this family and something which Mr. Grayson both misses and needs.

There is a clear lack of warmth between these people and I believe that Mr. Grayson has often felt the lack while he was being raised in a relatively cold atmosphere where he was expected to act and behave far beyond his age. While he is remarkably self possessed and self-reliant, I feel he has become so, in part, as a way to gain approval from his foster father.

**Week 45:**

To my surprise I received a letter from the legal department of Wayne Enterprises today. In essence, it made clear that if I were to ever, in any way, compromise the confidentiality assured between myself and Mr. Grayson—and possibly, by extension, Mr. Wayne, there would be immediate and firm legal repercussions.

I debated about whether to involve Mr. Grayson in this and decided that it would accomplish nothing to shield him from the heavy-handed threat from his father.

He was angry when shown the letter, saying he would speak to Mr. Wayne that day and left early to do so.

He called me later that day, saying Mr. Wayne is very concerned about possible 'security breaches' and would like to speak with me himself. I agreed and a meeting was set up for next week, with Mr. Grayson present.

While I concede that Mr. Wayne (and his son) have reason to be concerned regarding personal safety in an age of corporate terrorism, I see a real sense of paranoia in both men and should be addressed.

**Week 46**:

This session began with my asking Mr. Grayson if he had discussed last week's letter with Mr. Wayne and he replied that he had. He stated that Mr. Wayne had no knowledge of the letter, insisted that he had nothing to do with it's being drafted or sent and would launch an investigation about how it had been written and sent. When I asked Mr. Grayson if he believed this he laughed and shook his head.

I then asked him if Mr. Wayne was in the habit of intruding in confidential and highly personal areas of his family members. The patient said that Mr. Wayne had his own ways of doing things and that he was basically harmless. He further stated that anyone who had ever met Bruce Wayne would know that he didn't have the wherewithal to plan or enact such a thing, even if it did occur to him to do so. Patient stated that Mr. Wayne's main interests involved 'playing golf, going to parties and getting laid'.

He further suggested that it was likely that one of his father's underlings had written the letter in an effort to forestall any possible tell-alls or leaks to the press and to garner

'brownie points'.

Mr. Grayson seemed remarkably unconcerned about this serious breach of doctor/patient confidentiality and I asked if this was normal for him.

He responded that 'Bruce sort of lives in his own world; people try to protect him and he pays very well to be protected. Sometimes it gets a little carried away. He told me it wouldn't happen again, though so 'don't worry about it.'

I strongly suspect that Mr. Grayson is, at best, dissembling the truth and likely knows significantly more about how this letter was written than he is willing to admit. I also suspect that he is used to having his privacy blatantly violated.

It's clear to me that Mr. Grayson enables Mr. Wayne to wallow in his paranoia and fantasy world of spies and danger.

**Week 47:**

Mr. Grayson canceled.

**Week 48:**

A man identifying himself as a Mr. Pennyworth called; saying the Master Grayson had asked him to cancel his appointment.

**Week 49:**

Mr. Pennyworth canceled for Mr. Grayson.

**Week 50:**

No-show.

**Week 51:**

No-show.

**Week 51:**

Mr. Grayson appeared for this week's appointment. He appeared thinner than usual, was obviously tired and had several bruises visible below his short sleeves and in the 'v' of his shirt. Despite this he was agitated and angry when he sat down. He was anxious to unburden himself and began straight away.

I asked him what had caused the bruises and he deflected the question. I asked why he'd canceled five appointments and he said he'd 'been busy'. He then said that he'd been forced to help the Justice League in a major fight against Deathstroke, that Batman had been 'kicked out of the fucking League' and that he had been 'strong-armed into leading them because none of them could get their shit together—as if that's unusual'.

After several months of virtually no mention of his superhero alternate life-style, I was somewhat surprised to have it back with such force. I asked Mr. Grayson why Batman had been expelled and he replied 'they found out he'd made files detailing how to take the members down in case it became necessary and they kind of flipped out'. He added that 'Arsenal and Flash had gone along with the damn vote' and seemed to take it as a personal betrayal.

When asked why he said they'd been friends since they were eleven years old, had all founded the Teen Titans together and he'd expected more from them.

He continued in this vein for the entire session, going over by twenty minutes. He was somewhat less agitated when he left but is clearly extremely upset.

I'm still undecided if this truly is a fantasy or may have some basis in reality. The hero role playing delusion is so common it seems the only possible explanation but the detail Mr. Grayson has, along with the level of certainty and the vastness of his personal resources and abilities makes me doubt the obvious diagnosis.

Without a definite diagnosis after a year, I can't help man.

**Week 52:**

Mr. Grayson is still upset about Batman's shoddy treatment by the JLA.

He spoke for almost the entire session about the shortcomings of the various members, with only Superman not being brought under Mr. Grayson's intense and seemingly astute analysis as to why the information on how to stop the superpowered members, should it be needed, is vital.

He talked at great length about the common sense of the back up plan—insisting that's all it is and I have to admit his logic seems sound.

Finally, in both an effort to change the subject and to address a new situation, I asked Mr. Grayson about the more salacious rumors involving Batman and Robin the new Kitty Kelly book, released this week. I specifically asked if the rumor regarding Wonder Girl aborting Robin's baby had any truth to them.

He asked me 'why the fuck I'd waste time with crap like that' and I replied that it would give me insight into his relationships with women. He was annoyed by the question, stated that WG was merely a close friend, they'd never dated, let along had relations and while he hadn't read the latest book, he would likely have his lawyers go over it for possible lawsuits. He then added that WG had been through enough and didn't need this right now. He explained that she'd recently been divorced and then lost her ex husband, her step-daughter and their son in a car accident and was still trying to come to grips with her losses.

**Week: 53:**

Last evening Batman appeared in my office—I say appeared because one moment I was alone and the next I wasn't.

He is frightening in the extreme and I was immediately defensive and feared both for my life and my mental health as he is, indeed, horrifying to be accosted by.

He made it clear that he's aware that Nightwing is seeing me, has been seeing for a year now and that the young man is breaking every code of security and safety they've lived by in his visits to me. He added that he's fully aware of what we'd discussed and that I was making full notes on every session. He told me that should any of that information eve—and he stressed that—he would personally make sure I was made to understand the gravity of that breach and the degree of danger I'd be subjecting people to. The he added 'Not just _people_—my friends and my family and that would be unacceptable to me'.

He then disappeared as quickly and mysteriously as he arrived, leaving me shaken and, frankly, terrified.

I started Mr. Grayson's session this week with a recounting of the encounter and his reaction was unexpected. He calmly nodded and said 'That sounds like something he'd do'. When asked if he considered this type of intimidation acceptable he responded that he didn't, but knew that was fairly standard for 'The Bat' and he wasn't surprised that I'd been visited.

He then asked if he would be more comfortable if he changed to another therapist. In all honesty, I am no longer comfortable treating Mr. Grayson but am coming to believe that he is, indeed, who he claims to be and, as such, is in obvious need of someone to give him perspective and an unbiased viewpoint regarding his activities and his life.

As a professional it's my job to help this young man as long as he wants and needs my help.

However, for my own protection, I am making copies of these tapes and will continue to do so every week. I'll leave the copies in a secure location with instructions that they be published should any threats continue against me by members of Mr. Grayson's family or should anything happen to me.

I informed My. Grayson of my decision and his reaction was to tell me that I was making a serious mistake.

I didn't press the issue, though I'm quite sure that these files have been compromised and are being read, probably by 'The Bat' as My. Grayson refers to him, though the patient has said he will speak to his adoptive father regarding this gross invasion of his privacy.

Clearly, this is unacceptable on both a personal and a professional level and can't be tolerated. Furthermore, it is compromising my treatment of my patient and is a distraction to everyone concerned.

4/6/08

6


	4. Chapter 4

**Case File Number 2738**

**Conclusion**

**Week 54:**

I am now convinced That Mr. Grayson is, indeed, who he claims to be: a vigilante superhero with a secret identity and is a man in need of an impartial view and suggestions and analysis of his life and choices. The recent frightening encounter of Batman in my office as well as the implacable proof and consistency of Mr. Grayson's assertions have led me to this conclusion.

He remains, clearly, a deeply intelligent and highly trained young man with strong convictions and a highly developed sense of both personal responsibility and of simple right and wrong—although on his own occasionally questionable terms.

I believe he is who he says he is.

I also believe that it is imperative that he continues to seek counseling to allow himself the outlet it provides for him.

I must admit to some trepidation regarding this and will consider if I feel myself equal to this particular patient or if I'm willing to subject myself to any more encounters with Mr. Grayson's co-workers. I question how many of his life choices are his own and how many were foisted upon him by his mentor.

**Week 55:**

Mr. Grayson arrived this week in a continued agitated state, explaining that not only is the 'fucking League' still holding firm in their determination regarding 'the Bat's' outster from their ranks, but have gone so far as to suggest that Mr. Grayson consider joining the JLA in his mentor's stead.

He explained to me that, while he could work with the League and that some of his close friends are members, he still deeply resents their treatment of the man he sees as a father figure. He questions whether or not this would affect his ability to do his job.

He also expressed to me concern regarding his employment with the BPD, as he has reason to believe that his relationship to his adoptive father may soon become general knowledge within the department. He feels that his close association with a wealthy man will be detrimental to his effectiveness. He is also concerned about possible blackmail attempts or 'being hit up for a loan every time I turn around'.

Shortly before our session ended he also made the unasked for comment that I 'shouldn't worry about the Bat—I've spoken to him and he'll be okay'.

I hope so.

**Week 56:**

I finally asked Mr. Grayson what his feelings are regarding 'the Bat'. We've spoken often about his adoptive father and the complicated and mixed feelings existing there from both sides towards one another. But we've yet to discuss the relationship between Batman and the former Robin.

He responded that when he was younger he freely admitted he idolized the Bat, admitted that he was firmly of the belief the man could do no wrong and 'would have walked through fire' for him. Clearly, he is grateful for the training he received which allowed him to find closure regarding his parent's deaths and openly credits his time spent with the man—at least after he came under the mans tutorledge—with forming him into the adult he's become.

I challenged Mr. Grayson, saying that, while all this was undoubtedly true, it was also superficial, obvious and the answer I would expect from a noncritical adolescent.

He appeared to be angry at my response and was silent for several minutes. I expected that he might simply leave but he surprised me by stating that he used to think about the relationship a lot, bordering on obsessing on it. He stated that they had experienced a lengthy estrangement which was only resolved within the last two or so years and that he'd rather 'let sleeping dogs lie'.

I continued to challenge him on this point, saying he was hiding and refusing to be open about what have to be complicated and very mixed feelings. I next asked him what had caused the estrangement. He was evasive but finally admitted that he was fired as Robin.

From Mr. Grayson's demeanor, this was likely as traumatic to him as the loss of his parents. He had trouble composing himself, evinced heightened color and increased rapid breathing. When asked he responded that the reason for his 'firing' was the result of an injury he'd experienced 'on the job' and had been told—rather coldly, it would seem—that he was being relieved for his own safety.

I asked him what he did when this incident occurred; how he reacted. He said that his reaction was anger tempered by deep emotional pain. He perceived this as a major and possibly final rejection and took it entirely personally, seeing it as a failure on his own part and, thus, his 'fault'.

I suggested that in all likelihood, the event was a result of the Bat's own fears of endangering or even losing a young man he had come to view as his son. He referred to this idea was 'bullshit', as he'd been placed in mortal danger by Batman beginning when he was nine years old. He felt that Batman's concern was 'belated, at best'. He also continued in his firm hold onto the belief that it was the logical conclusion of both his working in the Batman and Robin partnership and also one he should 'have seen coming'. He insisted that he should have known this could happen and that because of that, he should have been able to do something to prevent it.

I also pointed out to him that, as was described to me, Batman, had never in any way, suggested that the B&R relationship was a temporary one. Mr. Grayson had no reason to think that he would be let go.

He then expressed further anger at the fact that he 'was replaced in a couple of months by a second-rater'. He also holds himself, to some degree, responsible for the death of his replacement, saying that if he hadn't been injured, he would have had the training to survive that Robin #2 couldn't.

He also has a tremendous of anger and resentment built up by this obvious and cold-hearted rejection from the man who was his paternal figure after his biological father's murder. The rejection is compounded by the fact that it came just as the wardship with his then guardian was due to legally end.

I can only conclude that Batman is both emotionally stunted himself to inflict such pain onto a very young man and likely sadistic to even consider such a thing involving he has professed to love 'like a son'.

**Week 57:**

I've now become convinced that Mr. Grayson was a victim of some form of child abuse. I doubt that it was sexual in nature, though I have to believe, after hearing him describe his 'training' with Batman, that it may well have crossed the line to brainwashing and mind control.

As he explained it to me, a normal day would consist of raising at five AM to work out for an hour and a half. He would then go through a normal school day, go home for homework and dinner then prepare for the evening's 'patrol'. This would generally commence with nightfall and continue as long as necessary, which could be as early as midnight but could also extend to dawn at which time the circle would repeat. In addition he led the Teen Titans, maintained social obligations and was punished if he fell off the school's honor roll.

There was a lack of warmth and affection in the home environment which the patient felt deeply, having come from a highly tactile and emotionally demonstrative family.

This emotional abuse/neglect was continued and likely cumulated in the dismissive manner in which he was 'fired', as described in last week's session notes. In addition, being in the role of 'ward', his entire family structure was, by definition, finite and temporary. This situation was only corrected and solidified belatedly by his adoption in his early twenties.

I seriously question why Batman was allowed to retain custody of Mr. Grayson. I shall attempt to have his wardship and adoption records opened for me.

**NB:** Shortly after making this entry I found a note taped to my computer. "Don't", with a silhouette of a bat as the only signature. I can only assume that Batman feels threatened by any intrusion into his failures in a parental role. I shall inform Mr. Grayson of this further breech of his privacy.

**Week 58:**

After initially canceling his session, I was surprised to see Mr. Grayson appear at his regular time. He was clearly upset and evasive about his reasons both for canceling and for keeping the appointment. After almost an hour of encouragement he informed me that this would be his last session. He explained that he'd spent several days at the home of his adoptive father last week and that, between him and his father, they'd decided that therapy would be ultimately counter-productive to their 'goals'. I asked if this were indeed his own decision or if he'd been, in any way, coerced. He insisted that this was not the case and he had come to understand that the possible dangers to myself and to his 'work' were too great to continue.

I told him that it was apparent to me that he'd been convinced of this choice by his father and that, in my professional opinion, there were still many issues which he would benefit from exploring in depth. He reluctantly acknowledged that this might be true but weighed against the dangers involved, he was unable, 'in good conscience to allow me to remain in what could easily become a potentially horrendous situation'.

Informed that this was obviously not his own decision, he surprised me by admitting that fact instead of arguing or walking out as I expected, saying, "The security risks are too great to be acceptable. Batman is right about that."

I strongly suggested that he continue with his therapy and he agreed he found it 'helpful' but reiterated that it was 'too much of a breech' to do so. I also offered the names of several colleagues whom I consider to be beyond question regarding their professionalism and integrity. He thanked me, said he'd think about it and left. Subsequent attempts to reach him have been unsuccessful.

I remain highly concerned about this patient.

**NB: **Two days after my last scheduled appointment with Mr. Grayson I received the following:

_I want to both thank you for your patience with my somewhat special needs over the last year or so and to have you understand several things._

_First of all, as I suspect you may have realized, the decision to leave your practice was not entirely my own and the reasons for that choice being made are, I assume, obvious to you. The man whom I consider to be, if not my actual father, the person most responsible for molding me into the man I've become was deeply concerned about the personal safety of our circle of close friends and family should any of your notes fall into the wrong hands. I have to stress that this fear is well founded and I've, unfortunately, seen the results of ignoring needed caution in this area._

_Secondly, while working with you I did find deeper understanding of myself, my motivations and my own agenda for my actions since I lost my parents. I have come to the point where I believe I may have gained enough perspective to see for myself the whys and wherefores of myself. To this end I shall be keeping a personal journal so that I might be able to articulate my thoughts and feelings, as well as to be better able to work out personal problems on my own. I believe that it's through your objective perspective that I'm now able to do this. I'm in your debt for this._

_I'll be in touch and should you ever have any need of my services or those of my friends, please let me know._

_With gratitude,_

_Richard Grayson_

It remains my belief that Mr. Grayson was cajoled or threatened into this decision and I continue to fear for him.

_4/15/08_

5


	5. Chapter 5

**Case File 2738 Epilogue:**

**Gone Missing**

**Part One**

Dick heard the alarm before he even turned the corner. Shrieking, wailing and making an unholy noise he knew it was his car before he saw the thing. Windows smashed, doors left open and everything that could be ripped out in two minutes or less gone.

Crap.

But it was just a car. It wasn't even his special car, the one he'd spent almost a year customizing for his special needs. It was just your run of the mill; anyone with the money or the credit could drive it off the lot piece of transportation.

It was even fully insured and would probably be replaced in a day or two. No problem.

He'd make a call; they'd hear his name and jump to it. That's all it would take.

He stood there looking at what little remained inside and there wasn't much. Radio/CD player: gone. Radar detector: gone. Glove compartment: empty. Imported designer sunglasses from the visor: gone. Shopping bags on the back seat: gone. Laptop: gone.

Laptop.

Oh fuck.

Sure, it was triple password protected and the odds of someone being able to access the hard drive were slight but—fuck.

Okay, fine. Pain in the ass but he could deal with this. He used his cell to call his insurance agent, AAA, the cops and Oracle to report the missing computer and have her make sure it hadn't been accessed and, if possible, disable the hard drive. Better to have it toasted than to have it fall into wrong hands. Besides, he had the thing backed up on an external hard drive back at the cave. An hour later the official report was filled out and a rental car was at his disposal until his own car was replaced. Everything was under control and it would be okay. Bruce would be pissed, but no real harm done. It was contained.

Later that night, tired and in a bad mood, he let himself into his apartment. Scoring some cold Chinese from the fridge for a late dinner, he sat on the couch and went through his mail then idly hit the message button on his answering machine.

"Hello, um, hi, Mr. Grayson. Look, I hate to lay this on you but, um, my office was broken into last night and—oh crap—some stuff was stolen and I just realized that your file is gone. I know…um, this is pretty bad. There was a lot of shit in there you don't want out there. The cops are on it, so I guess…maybe you could work with them or something. I'm really sorry, y'know? It was in a safe and everything but—crap. Call me, okay?"

This was serious. This was really bad. This was a potential disaster. This was one of his worst nightmares and Bruce, the Titans and the entire Justice League would all be on his back about this. On the positive side, they'd all do whatever they had to so the thing was destroyed, recovered or neutralized.

Of course, his reputation was a competent colleague who could hold his own with the best in the world would take a hit from this but, well, shit happens, right?

Well…crap.

An hour later he walked into the study at Wayne Manor. Bruce was looking over the household accounts. It wasn't that he didn't trust Alfred implicitly, but he liked to stay abreast of things. His father had drilled that into him when he'd discovered their family CPA skimming half of one percent off the top. It was barely enough to notice, but Tom Wayne was sharp guy and he caught it.

Bruce always checked the books.

"Yes?" Bruce didn't seem in the least surprised to see Dick.

"We may have a small problem. My old shrink left me a message—his noted from our sessions were stolen yesterday or last night." Bruce raised one eyebrow. "My lap top was lifted today as well, the same time my car was trashed."

"Not a coincidence."

"I wouldn't think so, no."

"How large a problem are we potentially looking at?"

"My computer was as secure as it's possible to make it and Barbara is trying to do a remote wipe of the hard drive. That should be okay."

"But?"

"But the notes were a combination of hand written and downloaded from his computer—hard copies. And yes, there are names and a lot of details. Secret ID's, personal stuff about the Titans and some things about the League."

"And me, too, I assume."

Dick nodded. "And, no, I don't know yet who did this."

Bruce stood, "Then I suggest we find out."

* * *

They started by questioning the psychologist. Batman and Nightwing were in costume to make a point, though the doctor knew their identities because of Dick's therapy sessions over the last year or so. He insisted he had no idea who might have had the access to even know that either Dick Grayson or Nightwing was a patient of his and knew of no one who would engage in break and enter. He insisted hat he hadn't been contacted regarding any kind of ransom for the material and that nothing else was stolen. Clearly the information was the target; the question was what would be done with it.

Next a quiet series of inquiries and searches were made to anyone who might profit from this kind of information—at least on a quasi-legitimate level. They investigated publishing houses, magazines, television corporations and shows, film companies. They kept their ears to the ground to see if anyone was offering the info through any of the usual channels.

They went through every compute/internet search engine they could—with Oracle's help to find if anything was being offered through those outlets.

Nothing.

* * *

Three hours before dawn (Eastern Daylight Time) Nightwing was mid-search down by the Moors of Bludhaven when Superman landed lightly beside him.

"Any luck yet?"

"'Just a matter of time. We'll get it."

"Before it leaks? The members of the League are concerned and we've gotten calls from both the Titans and the Outsiders, too."

"I know, we're…"

"Looking. Yes. How much information are we talking about here?"

Nightwing sat on a cement wall next to the water. "A lot. I'm not sure what exactly was in the doctor's notes but I know what I talked to him about and if he was writing it all down—a lot."

"Identities?"

"Yes." Clark sighed in what seemed some frustration or, Dick thought, perhaps disappointment. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are; we all do but that doesn't really…we've decided to make this a priority for the League. Available members are doing what they can. We should have a resolution with in a few hours."

Which made Dick feel like complete crap. Bad as the theft itself was, he knew this was his fault and now the entire JLA knew it as well. There was really nothing to say to mitigate what happened so he just nodded in agreement. Yes, the League should help, do what they can and get this wrapped up as soon as possible for everyone's sake. Christ, Wally had kids; almost everyone had a secret life to protect with vulnerable friends and family members. This had to be contained as fast as possible. "All right. Good. Thank you."

* * *

The expected message finally came through.

The blackmail letter—expected—was found at the bottom of Wayne Manor's driveway, taped to the main gates. The security camera was blocked with a piece of black electrical tape. No faces were seen, no vehicles were filmed.

"_**One Billion dollars. Tuesday. Seven PM. Drop point to follow. No money? Your choice. Have you seen the old man today?"**_

TBC

4/20/08

4


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to my little gear head son for the computer info…don't mess with the lad

Thanks to my little gear head son for the computer info…don't mess with the lad. Trust me on this one. Computer Boy has powers we can't even comprehend.

**Gone Missing**

**Part Two**

"So do you want the good news or the bad news?"

Dick gave her a tired look; the day was not going well at all. "…The good?"

"There isn't any. Okay, you had your lap top stolen and while you were a clever boots to triple password protect it, you really should have asked me or Tim first."

Cripes. "Because…?"

"Because I tried to go in and wipe it for you but it seems that whoever took the computer already removed the hard drive."

"Meaning?" Meaning he was screwed.

"Meaning, my little dumpling, that if the bad guys know what they're doing, or if they have a smart teenager next door who knows what they're doing, they can get anything they want off your hard drive as easy as putting a CD in and hitting 'open'." She saw the blank look on Dick's face. "Have you ever heard of BIOS? No? Okay, pay attention. It's the part of the computer, a little bitty chip which reads DOS…Disk Operating System, like Windows XP or something like that. Basically—I'll use small words for you, Boy Wonder—it bypasses any password. You could have your hard drive pass worded up the wazoo and it wouldn't matter. You take the HD out of your computer, plug it in and the second machine will read it like it was a music disk or a floppy."

The horror of the situation was clear. His entire computer, all his therapy sessions, his personal journal, his case research, his personal photos—_everything_ was free for the taking. Jesus.

"Any word on Alfred?"

Dick shook his head. Nothing other than the note this morning asking for a billion dollars in two days or else.

"Any thoughts on who did this?"

He picked up his jacket, ready to leave. Obviously it was planned and not just some random theft—both his computer and the shrink's notes stolen the same day? Y'think?

"Look, Dick—I'm not saying that someone did manage to get into your hard drive. Maybe they just got what they needed from the shrink's notes."

Dick shook his head. "Big help."

* * *

Batman questioned the doctor, this time with the help of both Superman and Wonder Woman, none of them in a good mood. The poor man insisted that he had no idea and while he realized that Mr. Grayson was the target of the theft—that it wasn't random, he had no idea who the thief could be.

Next they asked if he had known that Mr. Grayson had been keeping his own version of the sessions and had continued after the sessions had been terminated. He denied knowing anything about that, even though Dick said that he was the one who suggested it in the first place.

With all the information now potentially flying free, the list of people who would have reason to want to get their hands on it was growing by the minute. Everyone from the Bat Family's known enemies to anyone who had contact with the JLA to anyone who might have a reason to want to damage the psychologist himself through having him discredited.

Meanwhile, Dick and Bruce were close to distraught about Alfred and what might be happening to him. Captive by God knew who, enduring God knew what and under God knew what conditions. Finally Clark took Bruce by the arm and told him to get a hold of himself or he'd be no use to anyone, not the League nor Alfred if he didn't calm down and focus.

Back at the Batcave, he found Dick on the main computer. Looking over his shoulder he was slightly surprised to see what appeared to be the contents of his therapy journal. "You made a back up?"

"Of course I did."

"So we know exactly what we're dealing with? 'Could be helpful."

"Which is why I'm going over it. Here, check this." There was an entry from about six months ago; _**"I shouldn't have told the shrink about Roy's addiction problems. I know this is going to come back and I could see on his face that he didn't really believe me when I told him I've played around a little with some pot and went to my share of keggers in school, but never did anything hard. I even told him I was the one who got Roy into rehab, both times, but he seems to think it was guilt that made me do it. He even asked some pretty pointed questions about where all the drugs we bust end up and I know he didn't believe me when I told him that it ends up in evidence lockers. Shit."**_

"You tried pot?"

"I was in college. Sure I tried it. Haven't you?" Dick saw the look. "Of course, your body is a temple. Stupid me."

From two months further back: _**"I told him about that crush I had on Donna back when we were kids and he seems to think it's incestuous. Hell, yes it is! She's my sister, f'God's sake. I couldn't nail her—it would be totally wrong. Besides, Roy staked that claim when we were fourteen."**_

Three months further: _**"I know Bruce is disappointed in my choices. He doesn't get why I'm a cop on the beat in 'Haven. He thinks it's a waste of my time, a waste of my training and nothing I can do will make him understand that it's important to me—not just to do this but to do it on my own terms. Crap…he's been disappointed in me since I dropped out of Hudson. I knew it then and I know nothing's changed. He wanted the whole nine yards, the Harvard MBA, the corner office, the frigging Saville Row suits lined up in the closet but I can't do that. I just frigging can't. It would kill me. I just wish to fuck he'd listen to me about this, but he just turns all Bat and then it's a waste of breath."**_

Bruce paused. "You really feel this way?"

"Well, yeah."

Bruce stopped, looked at the entry again, rereading it. "When this is over, we'll talk about it again."

Dick nodded. "I'd like that; if you really listen to me."

He was about to say something but changed his mind at the last second. "All right."

* * *

"Batman? We have a lead."

"Go ahead Oracle."

"A two white teens, approximate ages 15 or 16, were seen running from Dick's car when it was broken into. We have security pictures of them from a bank on the corner and we've made tentative ID's based on the film. I'll send it to your computers."

They were generic kids, punks, the kind of kids who got a charge out of scaring little old ladies. Wearing too big jeans falling down and hoodies with the hoods pulled up. The tentative ID's came up with their arrest sheets. These were not nice boys; these were thugs in training.

"Okay, who's going to pick them up?"

"I believe that Clark is already on it and expects to have them in a few minutes. You want to meet him down at the Zee?"

"We're on our way."

* * *

They were our basic punks; angry, surly, low-life losers. Clark, Bruce and Dick had seen hundreds like them. They were cliches and ones they were used to dealing with.

Three well-known heroes took the wind out of their sails quickly enough though and they were happy to talk, especially since 'The asshole stiffed us.'

"Which asshole would that be, boys?" Nightwing was playing good cop tonight. "You let us know and maybe we could put in a good word for you. I mean if you're not lying to us."

"Or we could just take you in and let you sit in a cell for a few weeks. Your choice." Superman wasn't playing nice tonight.

"You know—the bitch who paid us to trash that car. 'Said we should take whatever we wanted but to hand over the computer—that pissed me off. My kid brother needs one for school, y'know?"

"Clearly you're a good family man. You want to tell us who you made this deal with?"

"I dunno—no name. Just some woman, high class. Nice dresser. She was a dog but she had ton of money on her back, you can tell, y'know?"

"And where might we find this dog?" Dick was still being nice. For now.

"We get off if we tell you, right? That was the deal."

"Well, we said that we'd put in a good word for you and that's about the best you're gonna get, boys. 'Not to be negative, but I've seen your rap sheets and they ain't pretty."

"How did she get in contact with you?" When Superman asks a question, punks tend to answer.

"In the park. She came up to us. I swear she did. Asked us if we were interested in some easy money." The lead punk was scared, trying to hide it though he was. This was the major leagues now and he knew he could be sent up for a long time if he played this wrong.

"You sure that you don't know anything more than that, boys?" Nightwing seemed so solicitous, concerned about them. The kids knew it was bullshit and all he wanted was information. 'Didn't matter; these guys held the keys and all the cards. Screw it.

"She gave me her cell number." He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a creased, dirty piece of paper and handed it over.

Nightwing smiled at them. "Thank you, boys. You've been very helpful. Get home safe now, y'hear?"

"That's it?"

"What else did you want?"

They were being let go. They were ahead of the game. This was fine.

TBC

4/21/08

5


	7. Chapter 7

**Case File Number 2738 Epilogue:**

**Gone Missing**

**Part Three**

"So has anyone found out where Selina is now?"

"We're looking but it's likely she's still in Asia."

"But she could have had some of her flunkies steal…"

"She could, but it's doubtful. You know she prefers to do her own work."

Dick nodded, yes; she always was a hands on kind of woman. "What about Talia? I mean, I know you still have a thing for her, but I never trusted the bitch—and with pretty good reason."

"Talia wouldn't do this kind of thing; too base for her. She'd have more refinement than a blatant theft and a half-assed ransom note." Bruce was still staring at the monitor, not that there was anything new there.

I still don't think we can just rule them out so easily. It's not like we've never had run-ins with them and either one of them has motive and the abilities to…"

"It wasn't one of them. Drop it."

Dick glanced over, surprised by the vehemence of the retort and wondering what brought it on. It could be something as simple as Bruce being a little defensive about his old girlfriends being suspects, a comment on his choice of companionship or something along those lines. Or not. He wasn't ready to cross these two off his list quite yet. They both had the motives and the know-how to pull something like this off, whether Bruce wanted to admit or not. "What are you reading there?"

Bruce turned the monitor so that Dick could see it as well. His journal again. Shit. It was an entry from last February.

_**I guess I've always been a little jealous of Wally and I know how weird that sounds, but it's true. Most people would find it a more natural fit for me to have some issues with Roy but I never envied him the way I did—still do—envy Wally. He has something I've always wanted and I don't know if he's even aware of what he's got. Maybe that's one of the reasons he wears it so lightly, the confidence of a stable family—a home he knows will always be there with people he loves who love him back. When we were kids I used to love spending a weekend there so I could pretend that it were my parents waiting for me to come down for breakfast or to come home from the movies. I used to really love how his mother would tell me to put on a jacket or wash my hands. And now he has Linda and the twins. Part of me doesn't believe it will ever happen to me—yeah, I know, like a bad song on AM radio—but part of me would give my right arm to have it**_

_**I know; dumb ass kids stuff, but then Bruce and Alfred—well meaning though they may have been—were never too much into the whole warm and fuzzy thing. It's just the way they are.**_

_**It is what it is.**_

"You still feel this way or were you just navel gazing?"

The tone and the sarcasm pissed Dick off, inappropriate as it may have been to not be focusing on Alfred right at that moment. "Fuck off, Bruce."

* * *

This was way more the hell than I'd bargained for and that was no lie.

I take on new patients all the time and when the kid walked in, recommended by one of the top members of the local society and the son of Mister Bruce Wayne, no less (meaning I could jack up his fees), well things were looking pretty good. A spoiled rich kid who wanted to talk about how hard his life was and how no one understood him? Piece of cake, a walk in the park.

But then…it turned out, at least it looked at first like the kid had a serious case of he crazies, to use a non-medical term.

He thought he was a costumed super hero.

Okay, that happens. You get these amazing people (well, _most_ of them are people, anyway, I'm not sure what category to put the space aliens in—but I digress) who have abilities and powers far beyond those of mortal men and all of that. Who wouldn't like to be able to fly? Who wouldn't get a charge of having fan clubs and women throwing themselves at you? What's not to like about having the respect of the entire world and to be actually known by the title of 'hero'? Your face is on the cover of every magazine. You can walk into any party, restaurant, anything and you're not intruding, you're the belle of the ball.

You're officially a good guy. You're a role model. You're young (it sure isn't a middle-aged profession), have a bod anyone would kill for, you can write your own ticket anywhere you want.

Sure, it didn't take Freud to see how this is one of the most common fantasies making the rounds.

So the kid thought he was Nightwing, no less. One of the most highly rated heroes working—known as a lady-killer, respected by every police and law enforcement agency on the planet. Personal friend of Superman, occasional partner of Batman.

It turns out he's really a cop in Bludhaven—a slumming rich kid or a rich kid (used to be poor kid, adopted by a rich man) with a guilt complex at his unexpected elevated station in life and he takes it too far into la-la land. Happens all the time.

Except, it turns out the kid isn't a loon; he's telling the truth and man, did it take a long time for that to sink in.

The kid isn't nuts. He really, honest to shit is Nightwing. He used to be Robin. He's one of the best detectives on the planet, raised and trained by Batman. Founded the Teen Titans, lead the Justice League for a while and really did all that stuff they write about him in the NY Times and the Gotham Times and Newsweek and People and everywhere else.

He really is smart and built and probably one of the best looking young men it's ever been my pleasure to have in my presence.

And he feels the need to talk to someone about things in his life. Okay, after I accept that he's the real deal I sit back and listen and I'm amazed that he's as sane as he is.

A child performer almost from birth, orphaned, lost in the CPS, effectively disowned by his family, taken in by Bruce Wayne who turns out to be Batman and then—_then_—he gets the training to be Robin. Leads the Titans and on and on. No wonder he'd like to get some perspective.

The longer he spent time with me, the more I came to actually like the guy. I mean, he's nice. He's charming; he's self-effacing and modest. He's a damn _hero_.

It didn't occur to me what a steaming pile it would turn into. Okay, maybe I was being naïve, but cripes—my life just doesn't usually veer towards blackmail and threats.

It just doesn't.

* * *

Oracle was doing everything she could to help with the current situation but she was limited since the hard drives had apparently been removed from Dick's computer and so her hands were tied as far as that went. She was frustrated and furious by turns. How the hell could he have been so frigging stupid as to actually write everything down? On a _laptop_? Had she taught him _nothing_?? He knew better. He'd been trained by Batman. He'd worked with the entire Justice League, f'chrissake.

Idiot.

Jerk.

She was actually shaking her head in disbelief at what was going on. Poor Alfred. God knew what was going on with him at this point—dead? Injured? Drugged? Shipped out of the country?

And part of her felt the worst for Dick. Yes, of course he knew better but for him to flaunt every security convention they all lived their lives by, to talk to a complete stranger about the innermost secret, personal and professional parts of his life? How close to the edge did he have to be to seek that kind of help? And the worst part was that none of his closest friends seemed to have noticed a thing.

Sighing and unreasonably furious at the fact that her coffee had gone cold she glared as Clark's face appeared on the main monitor. She practically snapped "Yes?"

He was almost taken aback for a fraction of a second but went on as if he'd noticed nothing. They were all too good at that. "There's been a break. Can you see this?" He held up a photo, 8 X 10 and black and white. It was Alfred, looking disheveled and holding a copy of that morning's Gotham Times. He didn't seem to be seriously hurt, though he was clearly in some discomfort.

"Where and when did that come in?"

"Five minutes ago. It was found in the lobby of the Daily Planet, left in a plain brown envelope on the main reception desk. We're checking the security tapes, but so far nothing other than a woman in a winter coat with a scarf over her head and part of her face, along with dark glasses. It's being analyzed but so far it's pretty generic."

"Do Dick and Bruce know?"

"I contacted them first, they're analyzing the tapes now."

"Any word yet?"

Clark looked off camera, obviously he was with the former Dynamic Duo. Turning back to Barbara he answered, "Yes."

"And?" Twenty questions, is that what we're playing?

"And they have a tentative ID. They're running a check now. We should have some hard information within an hour."

"Selina or Talia?"

"Neither."

TBC

4/22/08

5


	8. Chapter 8

**Case File 2738**

**Gone Missing**

**Part Four**

_**I know everyone thinks I did this big, altruistic, strong shoulder to lean on, best friend number with Roy but that isn't the way it went down. I sort of wish it was but then there are always things we do that turn out differently than we hoped.**_

_**I knew he was on the edge. I did. I think the others may not have noticed because they were all busy—Donna was all wrapped up in Terry, Garth was back in Atlantis and Wally was Wally. Something like heroin addiction in one of his friends would pretty much have to hit him over the head before he'd consider it as a possibility. Come to think of it, I guess it did.**_

_**I knew Roy and Ollie were on thin ice. I knew he was upset and Ollie was busy with Dinah and didn't notice. If he did notice he blew it off or assumed that it was just a phase or something. I knew better but at first I just kept my mouth shut—well, not completely, in my own defense. I did say something when I kept smelling pot coming from his room. I saw the pill bottles in his bathroom with way the hell too much in them and from too many different doctors. I did—I just let it slide for the most part. I guess that I hoped it would go away or someone else would deal with it. I was butting heads with Bruce then and had my own shit to deal with.**_

_**The kicker, the final straw was when we'd made that big bust down near Philly and turned over like 25 K's of pure heroin to the cops down there. Except there were 26 K's. I guess he thought no one would notice or figure that someone miscounted or something but I knew he'd stolen one.**_

_**Shit—I knew I really had to do something because with that much shit he'd kill himself. Hands down. No question and take it to the bank and I couldn't let that happen. It would have been my fault that one of my best friends—one of my only friends was dead if I hadn't stepped in. I did it for him—of course I did, but I did it for me, too. I couldn't be responsible for his death. I couldn't have lived with that on my head.**_

_**The JLA made out that I was this big ass hero because I forced him to go straight—well, he wanted to or it wouldn't have worked—but they're all wrong. I did it for me as much as I did it for him and I feel like a fucking hypocrite about it every time he thanks me yet again.**_

"Is this true?"

"Yeah."

"I had no idea."

"No one does. Roy doesn't know."

"…But you still saved his life."

"I guess. Yeah."

* * *

"Okay, Clark, Dick and I will make the collar, pick her up and talk to her. Thanks."

"I'll do it, Bruce." Both Batman and Superman looked at Nightwing, calmly sitting on the edge of the computer desk. "This is my problem. I caused it; I'll settle it."

"I understand how you feel, but we want to help with this one, Dick—she's probably the only way to get Alfred's location and if she…"

"I can handle it. Bruce, the note on the back of the photo reiterated the demand—how are you coming with that?" He paused for about half a second as though deciding whether to finish his thought. "How come you never used a GPS implant on him? It would have made this easier."

Bruce gave him a hard look, a 'back off and drop it'.

"Well?"

"Because he didn't want me to."

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" Dick didn't bother to hide his anger and sarcasm. His only answer this time was the too familiar Batglare.

Bruce refused to be drawn into this and went on as if the question hadn't been asked. "I spoke to Cliff down at the bank and he's agreed to release securities in the amount of one billion dollars. They can transferred to whatever account has been set up off shore."

"I assume the money is traceable so you can get it back?"

Bruce and Dick both gave Clark a look—they weren't rookies, thank you. "Of course."

"Dick, I'd like to act as back up, if you don't mind."

An expression of real annoyance crossed Dick's face. "I know how large a breach of security this is as well as you do. It's contained—it _will_ be contained."

"But, there are rumors that some of the information is being offered on the Internet to the media. There's also word that foreign nations have been made aware of the existence of your journals and the doctor's notes and everyone from the Iranian government to Simon and Schuster are showing interest."

Dick paused. He knew this was bound to happen. "Okay, tell you what. You guys get the JLA and the Titans to talk—personally—to anyone who might have an interest in exploiting this and explain to them why it would be a _really_ bad idea."

"It's going to take more than that, Dick; you're being naïve—we're talking about world wide sales in the billions—and that doesn't even begin to address the security and terrorist issues that have been brought up."

"Has anything actually leaked yet, Bruce? I mean is anything confirmed?"

"Not yet, no, but you know as well as I do that it's just a matter of time."

"But she also agreed to wait for the payoff before she'd offer the thing to anyone else."

"And why the hell would you believe that?" Dick encountered Bruce's disgust and disdain before, he'd even seen it directed at him, but this hit a new low.

Bruce and Clark were right. Dick knew this and he'd known all along that this could happen. As soon as he started typing his own version of his therapy sessions into his laptop he knew he was taking a risk and he knew the shrink would ask him just why he decided to tempt fate.

The answer was easy; because he never thought push would meet shove. He'd managed to separate his personal life from his professional one so well that, well—he'd let it slide.

* * *

The woman wanted the money later that day at three PM. It was to be delivered to a drop point in the middle of a suburban warehouse store. Dick was to go to the book section and slide the transfer paperwork under the third book from the top of the stack of Danielle Steel's latest piece of pap.

The woman had to know that she'd be picked up the minute she got the drop. It didn't matter. If she wanted the money—and she did, then she had to come here and get it. Unless, of course, she had someone she trusted with a billion dollars to get it for her.

Dick pulled into the parking lot at two-thirty. He was in disguise as a graying biker with long hair and tats and wearing old leathers and riding his dad's old Harley. He was ready.

* * *

I really didn't know she had it in her to do something like this. I swear to God I never suspected she could do this. I mean I'm supposed to know people, right? I'm a shrink, a psychologist, trained to be able to understand people and their motivations, needs and all of that.

I never, in million years—or maybe I should upgrade it to a billion under the circumstances, would have thought it for a second.

I didn't.

And now everything is going to blow up and it's because I trusted her and I knew better.

* * *

Bruce skimmed Dick's journal while he waited for him to report in.

_**Six months ago:**__** I know Bruce loves me. I do know that. I just wish he could get the hell over himself, get over the whole fucking 'I'm the Bat' crap and lose the cowl and just be human once in awhile.**_

_**Nine months ago: This sounds like it's horrible, but sometimes I'm glad I'm who I am and that I had the bullshit happen to me that I have. I mean no one would want to go through watching their parents die—I don't mean that and I wish to hell every single day that they were still here but if they were I wouldn't be me. If that makes any sense. I'd still be Dick Grayson but I'd be 'Dick Grayson of the Flying Grayson's performing for your pleasure'. I wouldn't be Robin. I wouldn't be Nightwing. I wouldn't be Officer Grayson. I sure as hell wouldn't be Richard John Grayson Wayne and have more money than I'll ever be able to spend in my life instead of living paycheck to paycheck the way we used to. 'We' being me and Mom and Dad.**_

_**I know what they say about how we were poor but it didn't matter because we had love. Uh-huh. Yeah, we had lots of love and that was great but even I was getting tired of Mac and Cheese and hot dogs when the show was in a slump and bookings were down.**_

_**The rich are different. They have more money.**_

_**Six weeks ago:**__** Okay, I admit it. When I was a kid I used to get a kick out of making Bruce jealous about how much I liked Clark. I like Clark—I like him a lot and I still kind of pinch myself knowing I can call him a friend but I also got a charge from the look on Bruce's face when he knew I'd spent the afternoon with him or when I took the name 'Nightwing'. Hell, at least he noticed.**_

_**Fourteen months ago:**__** I'm not sure about this. I probably shouldn't be writing anything down like this because of the possible security nightmare but—crap—I need to get things out. I'm not the fucking Bat. I'm not Superman or Arthur who just does whatever he wants and screw the consequences. I'm not Ollie who just goes out and gets laid when he's upset or tense or something. I can't be like them. I don't even know if I want to because they're—shit. They're not me, I guess. I'm not them. Sometimes I feel like I need to just talk to someone but it's not that easy, is it? Nothing is that easy. I'm Nightwing. I'm everyone's rock. I'm the Titan's leader. I'm the go-to guy for the JL. I'm tough. I'm 'da man.**_

_**I can't talk to any of the Titans. I tried and I guess Garth gets what I'm saying but he's big on suck it up and don't waste anyone's time with your problems. It's why he's so tightly wound all the time. Roy has his own problems, so does Donna and Wally wouldn't get it. I'm going to see a shrink. I know—it's the big 'holy crap' and you've got to be nuts to see a head doctor but sometimes I think I'm going to blow if I don't, like a pressure cooker. I saw one explode once and that's how I feel sometimes. It's not good.**_

_**Bruce would have fucking fit if he knew so this stays with me. **_

_**The kicker is going to be finding someone really trustworthy. With all the crap I need to get out, to get some perspective on, it's gotta be someone whose mouth is a steel trap. Clark said he thinks he may know someone and I'm going to talk to him tomorrow and get a phone number.**_

Clark knew? _Clark_? He gave Dick the doctor's number and a recommendation.

This would require a conversation. A serious conversation.

* * *

Dick walked into the large store. It was generic for it's type; cement floor, high ceiling and harsh fluorescent lighting with shelving units going up at least twenty feet, filled with boxed items and cases. Rows of tables held piles of cheap clothing, towels, foodstuffs, shoes and whatever. The customers ran the usual gamut from obvious poor to well-heeled and all hoping to save a buck.

He made his way to the middle of the store where the long rows of tables holding the books, movies and music were found. There were a few people browsing, not making any contact with one another and all intent on their own agendas. He appeared to anyone who bothered to notice, as the kind of man you'd stay away from and whose foot you'd go out of your way to avoid stepping on his foot. Picking up and putting down several of the offerings, he made his way along the row, doubling back along the opposite side and slowly wandering along the stacks of best sellers and discounts.

In the middle of the row, between the latest Nora Roberts and next to the new Steven King was the pile of Danielle Steel's he was looking for. Picking up the top copy and pretending to skim the blurbs on the flaps he put it back, hiding what he as doing with his body. He slipped the envelope between the third and fourth books on the stack then moved away to the next aisle to pretend he was scooping out the yard furniture. Ten minutes later he entered the men's room, removed his leather jacket, fake beard and wig then climbed the stairs up to the manager's office. After showing his Interpol badge he was led to the security office to watch the monitors.

It would be a short wait.

TBC

4/23/08

6


	9. Chapter 9

**Case File 2738 Epilogue**

**Gone Missing**

**Part Five Conclusion**

_**Eight months ago:**__** He gave me closure after my parents were killed. Or rather, he gave me the training to find my own closure. I don't know what would have happened to me if that hadn't happened and God knows I've thought about it enough nights when I couldn't sleep or during some boring class. It used to scare the hell out of me.**_

_**But the older I got, the more I believe that without what Bruce gave me—without Robin, I think I still would have been mostly okay. I think I would have, anyway. Different, sure—but okay.**_

_**Dr. Leslie said something to me a few years ago which stayed with me. She told me that she thinks that I would have thrived (that was her word) in just about any foster home which was even marginally approving and I would have really blossomed (again, her word) in a place which was actively supportive. But then she said that if I hadn't come along in his life when I did, that Bruce might have been lost to his obsession. She claimed that taking me in, being responsible for someone else, especially a needy kid, was what forced him out of himself enough to function as a reasonably normal person. At least most of the time. She said that he may have saved me but I saved him right back and she'd made sure he knew it.**_

_**I never considered the concept before she said that. I guess I was just so awed by him, so grateful, that it never occurred to me that it could be a two-way street.**_

_**Strange to think about it, but it made a difference to me.**_

* * *

"I have her in sight on the monitor—just waiting for her to make the pick up."

"You need back up?"

"Not yet. Stand by."

Dick watched the monitor intently, staring, waiting for the woman to pick up the envelope, make the score. Bruce, Batman and Wally were waiting to serve as back up if they were needed, but Dick wanted to make this collar on his own. This was his case, he was the victim—more than the others, and he wanted to be sure this was done right, done now and done for good.

He watched her hesitate, pretend to browse, pretend that she was probably just waiting for her husband or a friend over in the meat section or something while she picked up this book or that—put them down and moved on to the next, all studied nonchalance.

He knew her the moment he saw her. She was wearing the same coat, same scarf, same sunglasses even in the warm warehouse.

Who was she, anyway?

What difference did it make?

How long had it taken her to plan all this—_had_ she planned it or had it just fallen into her lap?

She moved closer to the pile of Danielle Steel hard-covers.

* * *

_**Nine months ago:**__** The shrink really pissed me off and not for the first time. He's a doctor, he's a psychologist. I get it. He's supposed to know what the hell he's doing and he's supposed to be good at his job. I really do get it. **_

_**What I don't get is how the fuck he's supposed to begin to understand the things in my life which have shaped me and brought me to be the person I am. **_

_**Seriously. **_

_**Sure—there's a commonality of mankind and all of that but the people who've been through what I have? Not so much. **_

_**Raised from birth to be a child performer in a traveling show. Witnessed my parent's murders. Orphaned. Lost in the child care system/locked in a juvie cell at the age of eight. Abandoned by my blood family. Taken in by a frigging billionaire who turns out to be Batman. Trained to be the first sidekick and managed to (if I say so myself) set the standard. College drop out. Cop. Adopted by said billionaire and made his official heir. Continues as a costumed vigilante.**_

_**You show me anyone—anyone—who can relate to what I've done and experienced but this guy seems to think he can react to the things in my life and my thoughts and feelings as though I was some run of the mill rich kid.**_

_**He hasn't a clue. None. And he's pissing me off.**_

_**The latest? He thinks it might be a good idea if Bruce and I sat down and wrote one another letters to express our hidden, repressed feelings for one another. Bruce do this? Is he fucking serious? Has he listened to anything I've said all this time? Does he have even a single clue?**_

_**And he says that **__**I'M**__** the one who's fighting my emotions.**_

_**Christ.**_

* * *

She picked the top book off the pile, scanned—or pretended to scan the inner flap and the first page. Putting it down she took the second book off the pile and set it aside then moved the third book. Dick could see the edge of the envelope sticking out where she'd uncovered it. Casually she picked it up, barely seeming to glance at it and slipped it into her pocket. Replacing the books where she's found them, she slowly moved down the length of the table and around the display of wrapping paper.

* * *

He couldn't believe that she could be the one who was causing all this trouble. He'd never considered her capable of something like this, even though he knew she had some problems, some serious problems she was having more and more difficulty handling.

But this? He'd never thought…

He had to do something. He had to. For the love of God, the ramifications, the consequences if she wasn't stopped, if she went through with this. Not just for him but for that young man, his friends and—if he wanted to be melodramatic—potentially for the entire world could be catastrophic.

There were things bigger than him. He knew this and, though he never thought something quite some cosmic would ever apply to him or affect his life—well, life's what happens while you're busy making other plans, right?

He knew—or at least he thought that she hadn't given the information or the disks or whatever form she'd converted the stuff into. He didn't think she had. She may well have tried to sell them, made some inquiries to whomever one asks about these things but any real deals and hand over the cash stuff? Probably not.

It was the old man he was worried about—that butler of Wayne's. That butler/major domo/right hand man/father figure of Batman's for crap's sake. Normally she'd never do anything to harm a stray cat, let along an old man but she wasn't being normal—or normal for her. She was being…odd.

Angry.

Anger was bad because you could never really predict where it would go, what it would turn into. Some people get all hot, fly off the handle, grab a gun or a car or a bottle. Some people go all ice and calmly arrange to steal some stranger's stuff and blackmail them with it.

He knew her. She went ice cold and calmly, rationally would plan how to get whatever it was she wanted. It wasn't the money, though a billion dollars would get almost anyone's attention. She wanted to get even. She was angry because of him and he knew it.

Don't get mad, right? Get even.

* * *

_**Two months ago:**__** Bruce was on my case again about the BPD. It's wearing thin. I know how he feels and God knows he never misses an opportunity to let me know how much it hasn't changed. **_

_**I could be using my time better almost anywhere else. The PD is largely cleaned up and I should move on. I'm risking my identity by playing both sides of the coin like this. **_

_**Even Alfred has started the same refrain, though he usually prefaces it with "now you know how terrible proud I am of your efforts…" which is when I know about to get it with bot—very polite—barrels.**_

_**It's getting to the point where I don't go up to the Manor as often as I'd like or as much as I used to, though I assume no one has either made a connection or even noticed.**_

* * *

"I'm moving." Dick left the security office, headed down the stairs and towards the main door just as the woman came around the display of cheap flowers and flannel sheets. She walked straight ahead, looking neither left or right and making no eye contact.

The store's people had been told to let the outsiders handle this, they had enough back up and this didn't involve anyone in the store. Better to let them get her outside to minimize any possible danger to customers or employees.

Past the impulse aisle of bulk lots of cheap candy, past the endless lines at the registers, past the door checker marking receipts as people left the store with their purchases. Through the warehouse sized double sets of doors to the parking lot and the long rows of cars and SUV's. He followed at a distance, staying out of her line of sight, not that she bothered to look back or see if anyone cared what she was doing or where she was going.

She stopped next to a dark blue Toyota RAV4, opened the back hatch, rearranged something, slammed the door closed and turned towards the driver's side.

* * *

He knew he had to do this. He did.

Having Nightwing as a client brought home to him an idea he'd never really believed in or cared about—any more than he cared how doctors make you well or a nation does what it can to keep it's citizens safe (well, okay—most of them, anyway). It simply wasn't part of his consciousness.

The more he spoke with the man, the more he listened to him, to what he had to say. The more he understood Dick's fears and concerns, the better he realized what motivated him and his peers and how he lived his life he more he knew that he was doing the right thing.

This was his fault—indirectly and, God knew, without his awareness or help or approval or any of that but none of that mattered in the long run.

If she did what she was intent on—if she killed the old man, if she exposed the closely guarded secrets of Nightwing and the Titans and the JLA she could cause more harm, more damage to…

He had no choice.

In the scheme of things he didn't matter.

The heroes did.

* * *

_**Seven months ago:**__** Sometimes I wonder what the world would be like if we didn't function; if the League and the rest didn't exist—like if we were just fiction or from someone's imagination. If there really were no Superman, or Batman or Aquaman to watch over the seas and no Green Lantern Corps had ever been formed what would life here be like?**_

_**Would someone have to invent us?**_

* * *

Dick was just stepping from behind the large van a few parking spaces from the RAV when he instinctively dropped to the ground as he heard the four shots, scanning the lot and shouting for people to get down, get under the cars. The shots came with no warning and, because of the acoustics of the U-shape of the shopping center, it was impossible to tell what direction they'd some from—it could have been almost anywhere. Unhurt other than some minor road rash, he looked under the van, through the tires to see the woman on the pavement next to her opened car door, blood starting to flow away from her on the slight slope. Half-crawling on his stomach, he reached her by going under the three high vehicles separating them. Dead from a bullet to the head, half of her skull gone from whatever caliber was used—it was a heavy weapon, he was sure of that.

He searched her face—no, no one he'd ever seen before and certainly not anyone he knew. He had no idea who she might have been or why any of this happened, other than the usual motivation of money.

Was it really that simple?

Screams from around the parking lot.

No more shots.

Had the local cops intervened? Has some SAWT team over reacted? And where the hell was the Justice League backup he was supposed to have standing guard out her in case he called for them?

He rose to a half crouch, looked through car windows to find out what was happening.

There he was, thank God—Clark was about fifty feet away looking at his pavement and preventing people from getting closer.

Looking at the pavement? What the hell was over there that was so interesting? The body was next to Dick.

Sirens. Screaming. The usual confusion and panic when there's a shooting. Dick had seen this before, too many times. He knew the drill. If Clark was just standing, then the shooter was contained and he was likely the reason; Superman could be counted on.

The first ambulance pulled in with the fist squad cars. Ten more cop cars and three more ambulances were clogging the parking lot inside of ten minutes and the first news helicopters were just starting to be heard as they found their coordinates.

The local cops were here, ordering him away from the body. "I'm a cop." He showed his BPD badge and was allowed to stay and asked questions he deflected until he was speaking to the higher ups, other than to say the woman was under surveillance and he was on the case. Carefully he leaned down and pulled the envelope out from the inner pocket of her coat, now soaked with blood from a body wound.

He saw the suspicious look from the local sergeant. "Evidence" He held it u so the man could see what he had. "This was what she came here for." Dick looked over at Clark again, now quietly talking with the authorities, most of whom seemed more concerned about getting his autograph than whatever it was he was saying.

Leaving the woman's body where it was with the locals taking the pictures and doing the basic forensics, he made his way over to Clark, now also ready to move away.

On the ground was a man, clearly dead from what appeared to be a self inflected wound, judging by the positions of the body, the wound and the gun still in his hand.

The doctor. Dick's doctor. Dick's shrink—his ex-shrink.

He was the dead guy on the asphalt. He'd killed himself and, from the way things went down, probably killed the woman as well.

Whoever she was.

It was over. At least for now.

* * *

_**Three weeks ago:**__** I understand the idea of suicide. I mean I understand why it might seem appealing. I can even justify it, rationalize it; if you're in a situation which, for whatever reason—physical agony, emotional pain—whatever, is intolerable, unendurable and there's no (and I mean absolutely **__**no**__**) chance of that situation ever improving then I get it.**_

_**If it's that bad and there's no hope of it ever getting better, then do what you have to.**_

_**Having said that, I don't know that I'd ever be in that situation. I'm not going to say never but it would take a lot—a fucking hell of a lot for me to get to that point, but I do understand how people can get there.**_

_**Of course, too many people jump the gun—no pun intended—and do the deed when they don't have the perspective to see a way out but that's part of the problem with it I suppose.**_

* * *

"That's _it_? That's what all this BS was about? Are you shitting me?"

"Language, Master Dick. Language, please."

Dick spared Alfred a short glance, completely unabashed. "It can't be that simple.

"Why ever not?"

Why not, indeed? Of course it could be this simple. The woman was the doctor's ex wife, angry at her share in the divorce settlement. She wanted to hurt him somehow, found out Dick Grayson, son of billionaire Bruce Wayne (the man talked too much when he drank wine with friends) and figured that a rich kid would be as easy a target as she'd ever find. When the doctor found out she'd impacted his clients—and when the AMA found out he breached patient/doctor confidentiality—he'd be severely disciplined and possibly even lose his license.

The fact that he was Nightwing was just an added bonus.

She still had his laptop locked in the trunk of her car. She was going to take it with her when she left the country and read the hard drive when she got to Switzerland.

But the doctor had found out.

He'd followed her to the shopping mall, intending to confront her, unaware of the trap Nightwing, Superman and Batman were about to spring closed on her. He simply beat them to the punch.

* * *

_**The kicker is that I really think that talking with that shrink was helping me deal with things. I thought I could talk without the inhibitions everyone has and I loved that. I said what I honestly thought and spoke to him like he was a blank wall—no judgements, no criticisms, no admonitions, no warnings, no telling me I was off the wall or making mistakes. After all the years with Bruce, I needed that—and still do.**_

_**Murder/suicide.**_

_**I feel some responsibility, of course. But only some. I don't blame myself for the fact that his ex-wife was angry enough to try to destroy his practice. I don't feel responsible that he believed the only way out was to kill her and then himself because he evidently believed that she'd ruined his professional future.**_

_**Some part of me wonders if any contact with me has potential for death. I know—I'm being melodramatic but I do wonder at the growing list of people who've died after knowing me; my parents, Donna, Joseph, Barbara's shooting and on and on. The rational side of me tells me this is ridiculous ego on my part but there are enough that it makes me wonder sometimes.**_

_**But I don't really believe that and I still need that outlet, that release. **_

_**When the dust settles, when I get time to take a few breaths, I'm going to find a new shrink—one who can cope with me and my kind better.**_

_**The end**_

_**4/25/08**_

9


End file.
